Torn Apart
by VanPireNZ
Summary: A short one-shot story about how Jacob might react if things had gone further with Bella before Edward returned.


Author's Note:

Story is from a Writers Challenge with a group of friends. Requirements for the piece were:

Must be: Twilight Fan Fiction - can follow canon or not  
Must contain: Mike Newton, an orange, a lemon, a bird and a book  
Must not contain: NO mary-sues  
Word length: minimum 500 words, max 700 words

Disclaimer: All Twilight characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended.

Music: I wrote this while listening to Box Full 'O Honey by Duran Duran.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The table lay in a pile, a multitude of splinters. Pieces of broken plates and glass littered the floor among the papers and books that had rested on top of the now defunct piece of furniture, shattered from the force of his explosion. Jacob was leaning against the kitchen counter, his head looking down toward his feet as he tried to find purchase on the new reality which now faced him. His breathing was heavy, ragged; a clutter of chaotic gasps for air. The anger and betrayal coursed through his veins like poison causing him to shake uncontrollably. His head moved back and forth slowly, refusing acceptance of the situation.

_It can't be true. It just can't be. She loves ME! _

Jacob kept replaying the scene at the Newton's Outdoor store - each time hoping the ending would be different. That somehow this was just a bad dream, a cruel joke.

***

"She's not here Jacob." Mike looked anxious, almost distraught. With an edge to his voice, his words cut like a fine blade to the pit of my gut. "Edward is back."

Jacob's expression of chipper anticipation at what the day had promised faded to one of confused panic, his heart suddenly pounding out of his chest as the weight of those words settled with a thud. He turned around and flipped his phone open as he walked out the door, punching in the familiar sequence of numbers along the way. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, a faint prayer whispering on his lips as Bella answered her phone.

"Jacob." The hesitant silence that followed dripped of regret, and Jacob waited for the words to come, knowing his fate was shattering with his heart. "I'm sorry." That was all she said.

***

The memories of the summer were rushing through his head at a dizzying pace as he tried futilely to grasp them; to believe it all was real; that she had indeed been his. He closed his eyes and could vividly see the way the sun would cast shadows over the curves of her naked body; the light caressing her breasts and holding them in its warmth as the golden rays of the late day sun danced along the arch of her hips and down her inner thigh. His recollection of her skin - smooth like satin - and how the feel of it sliding past his caused the most electric friction between their bodies, moving in rhythm, seeking a unified prize. The tendrils of twilight moved to accentuate the ecstasy of release that punctuated her face, so overpowering that it seemed to shake the orange and lemon trees that sheltered them in the garden. They were together as one, unable to discern where he ended and Bella began.

She had held him in her passionate gaze, and uttered the words he had longed to hear, "I Love You Jacob."

***

Her words raked through his body like barbed tongues. Jacob's life had become Bella. He didn't remember life before she was a part of it and couldn't imagine life devoid of her presence now. The memories of her clung to his soul in the same way her perfume lingered on his skin after spending the day with her, draping him in a faint embrace. She was part of him, entwined, _rooted_.

He turned on the cold tap and splashed his face with the chilled water, hoping to wake himself from this agony. Jacob raised his eyes, peering out through the window above the sink into the garden beyond. The last of the summer fruit lay rotting on the ground where a single robin, bereft of song, picked at the offerings of the lateness of the day. Her wings beat at the air beneath it, breaking the stilled silence and lifting her into flight with a slight gust of wind, fleeing, and with it taking the last hint of the Indian summer.

Jacob sank to the kitchen floor, his howls piercing the cool air as the last echo of summer vanished with the daylight.


End file.
